


Half of the flesh and blood (that makes me whole)

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Not entirely sane!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chris is the one thing Peter holds on to</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half of the flesh and blood (that makes me whole)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by Temaris.
> 
> Title stolen from _Broken Wings_ by Mr Mister.

It takes a surprisingly small amount of time for it to happen. For it to go from Chris being the one who patrols with Peter because he's the only one who can control himself enough not to try to kill him, to Peter arching off the bed in a pay by the hour motel as Chris pushes into him.

Peter's not surprised that's where they end up. When it comes to him and Chris, that's where they always end up. It's been that way ever since the Argents first rolled into Beacon Hills, ever since a young hunter found a 14-year old werewolf hiding in the woods after being chased, and decided to let him go instead of putting a bullet through his head.

So when Derek first suggested Peter to be the one who accompanied Chris patrolling, Peter knew exactly where it was heading. He doubts if Derek would have suggested it if he had any idea of the idea of the shared history littered throughout Peter and Chris' past.

Talia wouldn't have done it. But then, Talia always knew who Chris had been to him. Had been there when their father had found out, fuming and righteous and telling Peter that he'd bring damnation on them all, all for the sake of _fucking a hunter_. It had been Talia who'd pulled him out of the way of their father's wrath, who'd wiped the blood off his face, bruises fading and cuts closing even as she'd done it. (And he misses his sister. Misses when it was just the two of them against the world, before she'd been the Alpha, a wife, a mother.)

But Derek isn't his mother. He can't be expected to know the story that's been written on Peter's skin in Chris Argent's hand. Can't be expected to know that Chris was the first person Peter ever slept with, laid out under a hunter and being opened by fingers that had killed god knows how many wolves. Can't be expected to know that it's Chris Peter thinks of when he has his fingers wrapped around his cock, that it's Chris' voice he hears telling him to come, Chris' fingers he feels running over him.

But, for all that he doesn't say anything, Peter is aware that Derek knows. His nephew may be young, but he isn't stupid. And he knows full well what the scent of lust and secrecy smells like, knows the taint of an Argent on his skin.

It's not healthy, anything but. And Peter knows that. He knows that giving himself into a hunter's hands, _trusting_ himself into a hunter's hands, edges past stupidity and into insanity. Chris could kill him. Peter thinks that, one day, he probably will. And still Peter goes to him.

When the sound of fire crackling and the scent of smoke gets too much, Chris is the one he seeks out. Because the noise dies when Chris touches him. When he's focused on Chris' fingers mapping his body and Chris' cock heavy on his tongue, then Chris' voice and Chris' scent replace everything.

Peter thinks that maybe this is why Derek hasn't said anything. Thinks that maybe Derek understands that Chris is his anchor, understands that Peter is too close to drifting away completely, that he _will_ drift away without Chris there to weigh him down.

Peter wonders sometimes what it would be like just to let go. Wonders what it would be like to close his eyes and let the wolf take him where it wants, to become nothing but claw and fur and instinct. But then the memory of Laura's blood between his fingers reminds him, the memory of it thick and warm and clinging to his claws, and he thinks Talia would be so disappointed in him now. Thinks that she'd hate him for all but destroying what's left of the pack.

So when the edges start to roll in, when he feels himself wanting to let go, he seeks out Chris. When he looks at Derek and sees his claws slashing through his nephew's throat, when he looks at the pack Derek has built and sees them lying, broken and bloodied, around him, he ends up at Chris' door.

Sometimes Chris fucks him, and sometimes he hurts him, and sometimes he just holds him, running his fingers through Peter's hair until the darkness recedes. But through it all, Chris talks to him. Soft words and murmurs that replace the noise, that replace the crackling and the screaming and the sounds of Peter's heart beating wildly with _Peter--_ and _Mine--_ and the steady cadence of Chris' breath.

Part of Peter thinks Chris' voice sounds a little like love, and part of him thinks it sounds a little like hope. And maybe, just maybe, it sounds like a future.


End file.
